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 Dec 2012 Jennifer Freya
Ian
I think the only way to describe being around you
Is like reading a story that will never stop being written
An endless tale, steeped in excitement and mystery
The kind of story that sets your teeth on edge
The kind that can make you laugh and cry
The kind that loves to make your heart leap and lurch
And every single day is a new chapter, new pages added to this amazing story
The only way to describe you is a painting
A beautifully fantastic painting
A wild painting
Splotches of color and emotion everywhere
Passion seeping out of its frame
The kind of painting you can stare at for hours
One mixed with all the colors you can imagine
And painted by the fingers of a child
But when I really think about it
You are indescribeable
And I guess with you, everything just sort of feels right
Sinews and cartilage and bones and liquid
this useless air bag and thumping engine
will one day become rigid

eyes and ears and mouth and soul
a gooey mess of synapses
its use takes a permanent  toll

strength and toil and sweat and grit
we can all live forever
just for a bit

failure and faulty parts
hospital visits and mental floss
**** doctor sold me a dud heart

so eat an apple a day
and keep your heart in a cage
to push death away

just one more day
She looks into the air, and sees herself as falling rain
a dripping coldness past, my memories an old pain
drops fall, puddling her already damp water-life
a spiraling mirror, a self-lonely strife
a sigh, one frown, crying soft saddened tears
storms of remembering through bleak yesterday
clouds-a-whirl, the dark sky sheltering a fair heart
but how can she enjoy, while taking no part?
Covering a cold soul, corona of defense
defying the stab of her fates intents
this is madness, she thinks in a plaintive cry
I'm here, on the cusp of laying down to die
what is my destiny, but an empty-off dream?
A plaything with which gods and angels scheme
am I doomed then to live, time never-free?
Consumed wholly beneath life's scattered debris?
Is justice, outside this torrential doubt?
Perhaps more than sorrow, a painfall fall-out?
Is live, perhaps, just a sliver of sun?
Shining through mists, revealing Avalon?
Personal paradise, which I can own
evoking happiness, hither unknown
she raises from streets of lonely no more
light slicing through darkness, her hopes washed ashore
her withered gait now straightening with pride
she glides like an angel 'cross her futures tide
her belief in life renewed, no only found
footsteps echoing, a cadence of sound
caressing the ground, singing the beat of her heart
into the sun setting loves brand new start
Even if I wore a watch,
as we talked until dawn
that pure summer morn,
gladly I'd have held the hands
to halt time's sands,
if it meant that serenity would linger;
But to the future,
time pointed with its finger,
and sailed us to distant lands.
Copyright: Conor Clerkin (January 2011)
 Dec 2012 Jennifer Freya
Sara
Please Lord
spirit, fairy of dreams
goblin of nightmares
whatever you may be
please gift me with sleep
sweet, easy sleep
let my bed be warm
and blankets soft
let not my book distract
nor the toils of the day concern
grant me sleep
free of dark thoughts
let my mind be at peace
and let me arise the next morn'
refreshed and ready to face the day
Amen.
Godless poetry

Dangling from a skill tree

Disgusting when i rot

Stop me
Start me
Cautiously

Fearsome knot

Frees me
Flees me
Freeze me

If hell is hot

Sock me
Mock me
Flog me

But trust me not

Its mine to break:
Two brothers march
off to war

To win a battle
to settle scores

They keep in step
Left-right-left

Drums, not hearts
their minds bereft

Through the fog
the 'enemy' lies

While back at home
their mother cries

Drums beat faster
as fog clears

Programmed to ****
for many years

Brothers see demonic eyes
fear screams- BOOM!

Who shot first
no time- assume

Two brothers aim
and shoot across

They've missed their mark
the guns, they toss

Dash together with
great speed

First to stab
and first to bleed

They lie together
attached by blade

Victory is lost
to a sick masquerade
Written quickly. Had it on my mind.
What you do doesn't define who you are,
however it lingers like a terrible scar.
Sticky and messy like a gob of black tar,
and burning so hot like a  bright neutron star.

I see all the good, and I weigh all the bad,
but at the end of the day it just makes me sad.

I try to press on and keep all my cool,
but it's burning me up, so I jump in the pool.
The pool of life, or a puddle of death?
Like a ******'s high compared to ****.

Never again will I take that leap,
cause next time around the road will be steep.
Steeper than the first time it came.
I'll be lucky to even make it out sane.
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